


Pitfalls and Old-Fashioned Advances

by Mad_Arid



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Community: twd_kinkmeme, First Date, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Arid/pseuds/Mad_Arid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asians don't put out on the first date. Merle says they make you work for it, so Daryl never bothered with them, leaving him to wonder about how to woo Glenn off his feet and into his lap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pitfalls and Old-Fashioned Advances

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I sadly do not own The Walking Dead. This is a fill for the TWD kinkmeme.
> 
> Prompt: Okay, so Daryl's fucked guys before but he's only ever dated girls; he doesn't really know how to treat a city boy - or a boy at all. After some awkward courting (bringing Glenn flowers, candy he's found on raids, etc) the two set up a date. Glenn looks fucking amazing and radiant and Daryl's a big sweaty mess. Glenn thinks it might just be the most adorable thing he's ever seen.

Daryl learned how to treat girls after listening to Merle’s supposedly countless escapades back when he was in high school. Dinner and a movie. Perfect combination. Merle used to take girls to those. And under the bleachers too afterwards. But chinks don’t put out on the first date. Merle says they make you work for it, so Daryl never bothered with them, leaving him to wonder about how to woo Glenn off his feet and into his lap.

Daryl supposes that a dinner and a movie would be romantic, that some flowers and compliments would get Glenn into the mood, and perhaps something sappy would be the sinker. Then he’d have the Asian’s sweet ass in his hands. No, that’s what you do for girls. Daryl shakes his head, frustrated. Not only is Glenn Asian, but Glenn’s a guy as well. And he’s not just any guy; he’s a city boy from Atlanta. Daryl has his work cut out for him.

At least he managed to grow a pair and asked the question out a few days ago before the kid left for a run with Rick. He cornered Glenn before he could jump into the car with sheriff. The kid blushed furiously before stuttering out a yes, gripping his knapsack’s straps tightly.

“When you come back then.”

Daryl slung his crossbow over his shoulder and watched Glenn slam the car door closed, heading out on another adventure with Rick, leaving him to wonder: What do city boys even like?

\---

It’s been two days since Glenn left.

Daryl stands on the other side of the dirt path, trying to ignore the obnoxious comments Andrea’s making, the rowdiness of T-Dog, and the excessive whooping and laughing at Dale’s story. He lets his weight go and leans on the largest tree in the area, trying to convince himself that they’re safe.

He’s a big sweaty mess when Glenn returns with Rick later that night. The two trudge out of the car and are surrounded by the others but they shrug the crowd off, each aiming for their beds. Daryl tries to greet the kid but Glenn doesn’t smile when he realizes Daryl’s blocking his tent.

The kid growls before shoving a bag towards the hunter’s hands. Daryl fumbles with the package before quickly sidestepping out of Glenn’s way. Glenn mumbles a half-assed “good night.”

\---

He’s showed up early after being primped up proper by Carol. “Something with sleeves,” she suggested. Then he remembers he’s in the new vest and pants that Glenn dug up on his latest trip. Immediately he stands, wiping his backside, attempting to rid it of any foliage. He groans. He’s already dirty and the date hadn’t even begun.

Daryl clenches his jaw and detaches a petal, then another, and another, and another, leaving the flower in his hand bare. He bites his lower lip. Frustrated, he kicks a rock at his feet and watches it bounce along the ground. Daryl traces the pebble’s path past two larger rocks, a small patch of grass, and a surprisingly clean and snazzy pair of sneakers. Startled, Daryl stuffs his hands down his pant pockets in an attempt to look tough, unfazed, like he hasn’t been waiting there for the past twenty minutes. Daryl grunts, fiddling with his fingers inside the fabric pouch, then realizes he’s still clasping the bundle of stems he picked out earlier that morning. He frowns.

Daryl holds his breath, trailing his eyes up the slim legs, lingering at the not-so little tent at the crotch and licking his bottom lip, before following the buttons to a nice opening near the neck, allowing his eyes access to the skin of no one other than the kid himself. The kid’s smile glows and Daryl can’t help but shrink at the sight. Instantly, his palms begin to sweat and he feels uncomfortably warm, so he tugs on his shirt’s collar and makes his tie much too tight. Glenn scans his body in a similar manner and smirks on his way back up. Daryl tightens his tie and gulps.

Daryl chuckles nervously, fidgeting in place. He stands in front of a surprisingly amused Glenn, donned in a sleek dress shirt and skinny tie, bangs clean and brushed to the side. A Glenn who’s apparently waiting for the first move to be made.

“Dates usually begin by greeting the other person,” Glenn teases. “Like this: ‘Hello, Daryl. I like your sleeves.’”

Daryl ignores the comment. “What took you so long?” he asks.

“It’s not a big deal, Daryl. A bunch of walkers had us surrounded so we had to wait it out. It happens all the time.”

Daryl fidgets, sighing in relief. He swiftly rearranges the makeshift bouquet he built after gathering an assortment of weeds around camp, in an attempt to make it more appealing than it really was. “Got these for you,” Daryl sputters, pulling out the batch of crumpled weeds from his pocket and shoving them in Glenn’s general direction, staring at the dirt between his own two feet.

Glenn grins hesitantly, taking Daryl’s petty offering, brushing his fingers against the redneck’s shaking hands. He keeps it as far from his body as possible, scrutinizing each bent and broken stem. Glenn tries to straighten them up, but they flop over immediately, limp. Daryl mutters that Glenn shouldn’t take it as some kind of metaphor.

“Thanks? I think.”

Daryl stammers a nervous ‘yer welcome’ and shoves his hands back into his pant pockets, as deep as they could go, wiping them dry.

“So,” Glenn says, kicking dust up with one foot.

Glenn stares at his face, as if he’s searching for something, then his eyes trail down before shooting back up to make eye contact. Glenn smiles. Daryl shifts his view, scrambling to find some topic to discuss. He recalls that Merle once said that the best way in a woman’s pants was to talk her out of them.

“Y-y-yeah.” Daryl rubs the back of his head, avoiding eye contact once more.

Glenn’s eyes shoot back down, possibly staring at Daryl’s feet. “Yeah.”

Daryl inhales deeply and tries to formulate his thoughts, to make them coherent. He tries not to focus on how nice Glenn looks because he knows that would only make things worse. It takes Daryl a couple of minutes before he’s able to force out another batch of words.

“Nice weather we’re having?” He smiles weakly at Glenn, hoping for some sign. Some mad sign that’s telling him he’s doing something right.

“I guess,” Glenn shrugs, bored with the conversation, but obviously enjoying something. Maybe his hair looks funny. He runs his hand through it, slicking it to the side. Naw, can’t be.

“Sun looks nice.”

“Very bright,” Glenn agrees, distracted, looking down. Can’t be his shoes. Daryl spent quite a while scuffing his shoes clean last night.

“Trees look good too.”

“Leafy green, I guess.”

Now’s the time, Daryl thinks. He should say something nice to him. Woo him off his feet. That should get his attention. Daryl grits his teeth and continues, “You look pretty in that shirt of yours.” Glenn raises a brow, perplexed, interested. “Better than the sun and the trees...” He pauses, hoping to enhance the effect, “Combined.”

“Dude, seriously?” Glenn snickers, shaking his head. “Come on, we’re going to be late for the ‘movie’.” Glenn grabs his arm and tugs him towards the RV. Daryl sighs as well, letting the boy drag him towards the makeshift theatre set up by Lori and the kids. “Oh, and zip up your fly. Don’t want you to flop this early into the date, now would we?”

Daryl groans quietly and rushes to join the metal teeth together, but Glenn’s tugging on his arm too quickly and he struggles to pull the zipper up. The skin of his finger suddenly is caught between two metal teeth so he bites his tongue to keep from swearing. Glenn catches a glimpse of Daryl’s plight and laughs.

Heat rushes to Daryl’s face, so he grumbles and tries to will his embarrassment away.

\----

Across the field, Lori’s fussing about something while four small feet shuffle behind the clotheslines. Carol walks behind the makeshift curtains and whispers a few words of encouragement before returning to her front row seat in front of the fire. Rick, Shane, and T-Dog applaud from behind Andrea, who’s tinkering with her gun. Dale watches from his shaded perch above the RV.

They’re all also dressed for the occasion, meaning a perfect cover up for a secret date. Daryl, not wanting attention, pulls a reluctant Glenn—who was on his way to the rest of the guys—and drags him to the far side of the camp. Glenn yelps. The group hears the cry for help and calls Glenn over. But Daryl’s strength trumps Glenn’s, so Glenn unhappily complies to Daryl’s commanding biceps. Well, perhaps not so perfect.

“Now, don’t be shy,” Lori instructs the children from a distance. “Just remember to follow the script and you’ll be fine. If you get stuck we’ll mouth the words to you.”

Lori’s returning to her chair when Glenn’s shoulder brushes Daryl’s. Daryl stiffens at the touch and stares straight forward.

“Dinner and a movie, huh?” Glenn asks, nudging his shoulder once more then standing the bundle of weeds in his shirt pocket.

“Yeah,” Daryl answers nervously, unsure of the right thing to say to make Glenn his. Glenn’s dressed finely and Daryl feels unreasonably small, that his outfit isn’t on par to Glenn’s standards. His stare is intense and he takes in every inch of Glenn, licking his lips. The temperature suddenly escalates and Daryl shifts his leg in an attempt to hide his growing dilemma. “Thought it’d be nice.”

“What’s playing?”

“ _Romeo and Juliet_ ,” Daryl answers, proud. “Suggested it to Sophia.”

“You do know that they both die in the end, right?” Glenn rolls his eyes.

Daryl bites his lower lip. “Should’ve suggested _Titanic._ ”

“He died in that one too!”

Daryl feels the blood rush from his groin to his face, gritting his teeth as he speaks once more. “The one about the cowboys?”

Glenn laughs and rubs Daryl’s shoulder before turning to the clothesline.

The play begins when Sophia jumps from behind semi-soiled boxers, and speaks in a loud booming voice. Carl does the same, but gets caught on a bra on the way out, tangling himself up. He cries for help and Lori rushes to his side. Rick tries to control the laughter but Andrea and T-Dog continue to hoot and holler, the latter slapping his knee. Glenn giggles and Daryl can’t help but feel warm.

“Heh,” Daryl motions at Carl, who squawks loudly before tangling himself up further in Andrea’s bra.

It’s a few minutes later that Carl is stuck on a word, stuttering, and enunciating the wrong syllables when Daryl feels Glenn’s hands on top of his. Instinctively, Daryl retracts his hand immediately before glaring at the kid. Glenn shakes his head, holding his hands in front of him with an unsure, apologetic, wavering smile on his face. Daryl turns away, unsure of what to say, shaking his head. He places it back on the armrest but Glenn doesn’t attempt to put his hand back on Daryl’s.

Daryl licks his lips, realizing he lost an opportunity. Yawning nonchalantly, Daryl stretches his arm to wrap around Glenn. Glenn yawns as well, raising his arms high above him, preventing the incoming arm from reaching his chair. Frowning, Daryl pulls back and places his rejected attempt silently at his side.

Daryl scowls but decides to make another move. “You look good tonight. Not that you don’t always look good. But you look nice, all dressed up, like that.” Daryl motions at Glenn’s general direction.

“Thanks. It took forever to find.” Glenn blushes.

Daryl stretches his mouth awkwardly, resulting in a deformed grin. Glenn makes a funny face, but the kid’s glee returns when Daryl compliments his shirt, describing how it fits his body well. Glenn pats his belly before sucking his gut in and sitting straight up before smiling back at Daryl, thanking him. Must be hungry, Daryl deduces.

“I’ll get us somethin’ to munch on.” Daryl excuses himself, before wandering to Carol by the fire. Shane watches him from afar.

“Enjoying the play?” she asks, turning the chunks of meat on the pan.

“Fine,” Daryl shakes his head. “I need to eat somethin’. Somethin’ good.”

“Sorry, Daryl. We don’t have much at the moment,” is Carol’s unfortunate reply. “Perhaps next time we pass a store, we can find something special for you.” Daryl frowns slightly. Just slightly.

Daryl takes a small piece from Carol, wipes a stick clean and skewers it before returning to his chair. He feels uneasy since Glenn watches every move he makes on his way back.

“Squirrel?” Daryl offers, handing Glenn the stringy kabob.

Glenn shies away from the stick, stating he’d prefer to eat the rest of the chips he pilfered from a pharmacy yesterday.

“Eat your meat, little man. It’ll be good for you.” Daryl whispers, dangerously close to Glenn’s ear. Glenn shifts in his seat, placing his hands in front of his crotch.

“I’m not that little!” Glenn fumes, balling his fists. “I’m just an inch shorter than you! Besides, bones need calcium to grow.” He crosses his arms, staring straight at Carl.

“Well, meat’ll help get some muscle on you. You look like a twig.”

Glenn seems insulted when he turns towards Daryl. “Are you saying I’m not buff enough?”

 “You’re short and skinny, look kinda like a geek.” Daryl replies all too quick, receiving loud shushing sounds from Rick.

“So I’m like a geek then?”

“No, I mean, yes. You’re like a geek cause you’re thin, but I don’t mind. I like ‘em thin.”

“So you have a thing for skinny geeks?”

Daryl stutters, and holds his clammy hands out, attempting to make peaceful gestures. And Glenn seems to be enjoying this. “Naw, but I’d pick you over a geek any day.”

Glenn is taken aback by the comment.

“Geeks don’t look good at all but you look a hundred times better.”

Glenn calculates the math in his head. “A hundred times zero is still zero.” Glenn looks away, quickly stifling a laugh by clamping his mouth shut.

Daryl sighs, clasping his hands together as if he’s praying that Glenn won’t cut the date short. But Glenn doesn’t leave. He sighs once more, this time relieved.

When Daryl finishes his squirrel, Glenn leans the bag of chips towards him.

“Thanks,” Daryl says, reaching inside.

He munches on the chip, letting the saltiness spread throughout his mouth. A couple of bites and a swallow later, his craving multiplies. Glenn’s invitation to the chips seems to still be valid, so he reaches for another while Carl swings a stick in the air. He reaches for another when Carl’s calling for Sophia, who’s standing on top of the RV with Dale. A few minutes later, his hand finds the bag and delves inside, hunting for sliced oily goodness.

His thumb is perched between his lips when he decides that sucking his fingers dry isn’t appropriate to do on a date. Daryl reaches for the handkerchief on the other side of Glenn when Carl refrains from kissing Sophia. Everyone’s eyes are on Lori, who’s working up a tiny rage, urging Carl to go on with obscene hand gestures.

“Da—ryl,” Glenn murmurs.

“Yeah, what?” Daryl turns and is shocked to see that he rubbed the grease all over Glenn’s new shirt. Daryl retracts his arm immediately and wipes the rest of the oil on his pants. He coughs out an apology before staring at Carl and Sophia lean towards each other awkwardly.

Proclamations of post-kiss cooties can be heard when Daryl’s fingers reach for the leftover crumbs inside the bag. His hands fiddle around even more and he feels Glenn tense beside him. He eyes Glenn from the corner of his eye and realizes his head is thrown back and the kid’s fists are clenched and he’s biting his lips. And then Daryl realizes that’s not all he feels. Daryl follows his arm all the way down to the chip bag, which is not only empty, but also perched in between Glenn’s legs.

“Son of a—!” he whispers to himself, retracting his arm rapidly. Glenn doesn’t meet his eyes, shifting away, face flushed. Daryl opens his mouth then closes it. Then he does so again, uncertain of what to say. Then he opens his mouth and wishes he just shut it instead. “Felt big.”

Daryl’s unsure how, but Glenn manages to beam joyfully and frown miserably at the same time. He reaches out in an attempt to grasp Glenn’s shoulders to shake some sense into him while apologizing frantically, that he didn’t mean to grope the kid—so soon into the date.

“Whatever,” Glenn scoffs, fumbling Daryl’s hands away and staggering towards the woods. “Gotta pee.”

“Do you want me to watch you?” Daryl asks. Glenn looks horrified at his offer. “I mean, do you want me to watch your back? For geeks?”

“No!” Glenn hisses, reaching into his pants and readjusting himself before he beelines for the trees.

Daryl watches Glenn’s ass struggle against the tight fabric as he waddles away, before cursing the tightness of his own. No room in these damn things. Glenn got him these pants on purpose. Daryl swears and tells the rest of the group to mind their own damn business before turning away from their prying eyes.

\----

Glenn doesn’t return until the play is over.

The group is around scattered around the fire, slowly eating their dinner, while Daryl mopes at the edge of the camp. He eyes Glenn making his way towards the group. The kid grabs a plate and scoops some of the squirrel stew onto it. Daryl frantically adjusts his tie, runs a hand through his hair, and ensures his zipper is zipped when he realizes Glenn is walking his way. He realizes he’s smiling like a madman and replaces it with a stern gaze.

Glenn waves from afar. “Hey.”

“You came back.”

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

Glenn grabs a chair and sits across from Daryl, smiling before putting food into his mouth. “Delicious,” Glenn murmurs, although his face doesn’t agree with the statement.

“Caught it myself. Skinned it too. Took a while to cut the skin and pull all the guts out. The stomach was bleeding all over—” Glenn gags.

They eye each other carefully as they eat. After he finishes his bowl, Daryl licks it clean. Glenn coughs so he removes the bowl from his face and wipes his chin with his sleeve. He watches Glenn chew, carefully planning his next few moves. Then he sees an opening. His thumb brushes against Glenn’s cheek, removing some sauce. Glenn has his eyes wide open and manages to _meep_ when Daryl sucks his thumb clean.

Glenn gulps, “T-thanks.”

 “No problem.” Daryl smirks.

Glenn blushes and fixes his hair, spiking a strand upwards. Merle says playing with hair means you’re in, that it’s time to go for the kill. Daryl notices the faint redness so he tries to take advantage of this moment.

“Your eyes are nice. I like how they’re all squished up but you still can see. Makes you look tougher than you really are.”

“Ah… I see.” Glenn squints his eyes, somewhat unpleased.

“My point exactly. And yer hat. Makes you look childish.”

“I think you mean youthful?”

“And yer ass. Nice and plump. Looks like it can handle a beating when—” Daryl catches himself.

“When?”

“When you fall. Must be nice to have all that cushioning there. Especially when you’re on the run.”

“Plus two defence, I guess. Good to know you find its qualities appealing.”

Daryl smirks, leaning in. “You’re such a nerd.”

Glenn laughs, accidentally knocking his spoon to the ground. Attempting to be a gentleman, Daryl claims he’ll pick it up. Daryl’s offer to retrieve the cutlery is refused by Glenn, but his arm still dives for it. Glenn reaches for the spoon also. The kid seems bothered, upset, confused when their eyes meet. Daryl smiles when he yanks the spoon away from Glenn. He rubs the spoon with his shirt, ensuring utmost cleanliness before bringing it towards the bowl on Glenn’s lap.

Something ruffles in the bushes.

Daryl turns swiftly, aiming the spoon in the direction of the sound, knocking Glenn’s bowl over with the spoon. A rabbit looks questioningly at the couple before quickly hopping away. Glenn yelps when he realizes the soup soaked through his shirt.

Daryl crosses his arms, grips his sleeves tightly, and rips them off with one sharp tug. Glenn’s eyes open wide and he doesn’t understand what’s happening until he feels Daryl’s hands all over him. Determined, Daryl rubs an unwilling Glenn clean.

Glenn’s muttering things under his breath when Daryl decides he’s done rubbing his sleeves against Glenn’s abs. He eyes a wet patch on Glenn’s pants and raises an eyebrow, asking for permission. He wants to wipe Glenn dry regardless.

But when his hands almost reach Glenn’s crotch, the kid huffs, turns around, and stalks off.

Daryl’s whispering multiple variations of apologies, following the kid across camp, drawing the eyes of everyone in the group, but finally catches Glenn in front of his tent. He grabs Glenn’s arms and mutters another. He feels Glenn relax in his hand and he does so as well. He stares into Glenn’s eyes, watching them watch him.

Daryl feels desperate. He can’t have this end badly. So he blurts out the first thing he can think of to get Glenn to stay: “Wrote you a poem.”

“Oh?” Glenn turns around and stares at Daryl.

Daryl feels the intensity of the kid’s glower and gulps. Glenn’s foot is moving up and down, pounding the grass beneath. His arms are crossed tightly. And that’s when Daryl sees it. “Here,” he says as he reaches for Glenn’s shirt. But Glenn recoils, wary of Daryl’s touch. Daryl tries again and Glenn moves away, taking a large step backwards. And another. And another. It takes Glenn a moment to realize that he’s trapped between Daryl and a tree.

Glenn throws his hands in the air, exasperated, defeated.

Daryl smiles, unsure, before he fixes the bent and broken weeds sitting in Glenn’s shirt pocket. “There,” mumbles Daryl.

Shane walks by, asking Glenn if Daryl was bothering him. Glenn doesn’t say anything but he manages to free himself from bring sandwiched by Daryl and the tree and stares at the ground. The few seconds that pass feel like hours to Daryl. It’s not until Shane crosses his arms that he realizes Shane won’t leave. Daryl tells him to mind his own damn business before stomping off towards the woods.

\---

His feet crush fallen leaves and he snags his foot on a root. He curses and turns around when he hears something snap in the distance. Daryl immediately turns, unsheathing his knife, and aims in the direction of the sound.

“Well?” It’s Glenn, walking towards him.

“Well what?”

“Let’s hear it then.” Glenn’s voice perks. Daryl stares blankly. “The poem?” Glenn demands, ready to enjoy with crossed arms, “Woo me.”

Daryl has a retort in mind, something about chinks, their accents, and how when they say ‘would’ it sounds like ‘woo’, and how funny Merle finds it, but it takes him all his strength to hold it in. Damn accents.

Daryl clears throat, prompting his memory from the struggle he had this morning formulating romantic mush, but Glenn’s impatience is growing, and he’s vocalizing it. So Daryl’s thoughts fly out of his head so instead of speaking the not-so-romantic-but-sappy devotion he spent hours on, he blathers the first things that come to mind.

“I like the way you kill geeks. I like your hair cause it don’t reek. You look real nice and eat fried rice, and when you bend over I take a peek.” Glenn laughs, clasping a hand over his mouth. Daryl trails off and crosses his arms. Another sound escapes between Glenn’s fingers. Then another. Glenn’s intermittent snorting ends when releases a hearty guffaw. Glenn pauses, stares at the man in front of him, and then laughs even louder. “What?” Glenn slaps a knee and points at Daryl’s face. “What you lookin’ at?”

“You—!” Glenn laughs again, failing to complete his sentence.

Daryl’s face burns. He grits his teeth and clenches his fist. Glenn’s face looks like a mighty fine target until he stops laughing and just smiles at Daryl.

“Thanks, Daryl.”

Daryl nods warily. “Good to hear it, kid. I worked hard on that crap.”

“Just, please don’t call me kid again.” Glenn scratches behind his ear. “You look enough to be my dad.” Daryl growls, allowing wrinkles to invade his forehead, only to result in laughter from Glenn. “See what I mean?”

Daryl harrumphs. Glenn smiles.

An owl hoots in the distance. Crickets’ sounds amplify the awkwardness. Something groans in the distance. Daryl feels his palms begin to sweat and Glenn starts walking away. Daryl follows behind at a safe distance.

“Well, thanks for the date,” whispers Glenn.

“Mmm.”

The rest of their walk, aside from the twigs snapping as a result of Daryl’s awkward movements, is spent silent. They’re almost within the range of Dale’s prying binoculars when Glenn stops walking, hiding behind a couple of thick trees.

“What? No good night kiss?” Glenn asks, turning his body towards Daryl, taking one step forward.

“Thought chinks don’t put out on the first date.” Daryl feels his back press against the rough bark of a tree. “Merle says they make you work for it.”

Glenn laughs, tapping Daryl’s nose lightly with his finger. “You are so old fashioned. Besides, you know I’m Korean.”

Daryl follows the finger and realizes a smirk has replaced Glenn’s smile. He feels his throat tighten when Glenn pulls on his tie, bringing their bodies, their lips, together. Daryl’s body jerks, shocked from the sudden contact but Daryl’s able to let himself go when Glenn grinds their hips together and wraps his arms tight around Daryl’s chest. Glenn squeezes a bicep and laughs into Daryl’s mouth.

Daryl unintentionally melts into the kiss and just begins to relax and enjoy it and use some tongue and grab some ass when Glenn breaks away, beaming as he leaves the cover of the forest, making his way to his tent. Daryl smiles, following the kid, hoping for some fun times.

Daryl’s about to enter when Glenn cuts him off, one hand pressed against Daryl’s chest and the other pulling down his tent zipper, “Dude, I’m not _that_ easy!”

Daryl turns, groans after the zipper is fully closed, and decides to ignore the not-so-manly giggles from inside the tent. Okay, maybe Merle was right about something after all. He was going to have to work for it, harder than he’s worked for anything.

But something inside tells him that all the embarrassment and ridicule will be worth it—if he gets some ass.

**END**

The next morning, Dale tells Daryl that he’s a decent man, but whispers that condoms are always a must.

Daryl whips a squirrel at his face.

Glenn laughs.


End file.
